


Love: A Trait of Humanity

by Arrestzelle



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Affection, Domestic Fluff, Forehead Kisses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-01
Packaged: 2019-05-31 12:41:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15119615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arrestzelle/pseuds/Arrestzelle
Summary: During a snowy evening at home, Hank finds himself content when reading from one of his treasured books, with Connor keeping him company. Maybe Hank is getting a little soft. Maybe.





	Love: A Trait of Humanity

**Author's Note:**

> I love the android/human trope, so these two were bound to lasso me in! I love fluffy scenarios with them, and thus, this is the result! Also, this is years after canon; Hank may or may not be developing a certain fondness for Connor.

The merciless wind and snow rushes outside the fogged windows in gusts, the wind screaming through the trees and along the glass panes. Silence sits heavily in the confines of Hank’s house, settling the thickest in the living room, where Hank sits upon his couch. Wearing a gray t-shirt with sweatpants, Hank is cradling a book in his roughened hands. Not a tablet, not a slab of electronical features with an eye-searing display, but a real—assembled with paper and binding and ink—book. No damn tablet could ever recreate the scent of the worn pages. The feeling of the bent cover against his fingers, a cover which had been folded back over the width of the pages many times now.

This book is from 2025. He has a collection of books which he’d hoarded from ye olden times. Before everything became technology. Before everything charming and special about physical features and treasured traditions faded away. This is one of the few things that Hank clings onto, from the past. The past… Such a faraway dream, now. The 90’s seem like a century ago. And sometimes, it feels like a time that never really existed. When technology, electronics, were finally getting their feet in the door, but through more archaic means. When he was just a squirt, enjoying the simplicity of life. Now, everything is so false and empty.

But not this book. This book brings him such a simple form of happiness. He can’t help but feel content, flipping through these pages like each one is as valuable and fragile as pages from the Quran.

“I detect your body heat is not meeting your base level of comfort. Here.”

Connor’s confident, smooth voice speaking up, bursting through that lengthy silence, overlapping the rustling of pages and the howling of the wind outside, has Hank flinching. He looks up past his tangled mop of hair and blinks tiredly. He gives Connor a wry, sarcastic smile and says lowly, “And here I thought I could be content for once.”

“But you were not,” Connor remarks, stepping closer with an insistence as he unfolds the quilt he held in his hands, “Now you _will_ be, Hank.”

He drapes the quilt around his human’s shoulders. Hank huffs. His smile becomes less tight and sardonic, more tired and amused.

“Is that sass I detect, Connor?”

“Absolutely,” Connor replies with the slightest smile appearing on his lips. His LED brightens up just a little, enough to be noticeable, spinning contentedly. Hank snorts and shakes his head. He uses one hand to pull the quilt tighter around himself.

“Would you like a warm beverage? Perhaps tea, or hot chocolate?” Connor asks politely, hands curled into loose fists by his sides, his expression open and relaxed. Hank peers up at him and searches his pretty face.

“You don’t have to get me jackshit,” Hank says, frowning tiredly, “You don’t have to act like a butler, Connor.”

Connor tilts his head slightly, his open expression becoming tense with confusion. He retraces his steps, determines where he made a mistake, what made Hank’s agitation level rise. His memory rapidly flicks through the recollections of every time Hank became defensive when Connor offered something that was unrelated to work or Hank’s well-being.

“My offer upset you. Is it because you don’t want to seem like you’re taking advantage of me? I assure you, I did not ask solely because I am an android meant to serve.”

Hank sighs, sinks back into the couch, lifts a hand to rub at his eyes.

“Connor… We’ve talked about this. You don’t have to do things just to fulfill your sense of duty.”

“But that is not the case,” Connor protests calmly, voice level, though his eyebrows are furrowing just slightly. Hank drops his hand and looks up at him with a deep frown. Connor steps closer to the couch, and closer to the other man. He folds his hands behind his back and speaks confidently, his expression becoming lax again.

“I merely offered because I want you to be content, as you were. I enjoy making you happy. Thus, if you are happy, I am… As content as an android can be.”

Hank’s scowl weakens. He searches in Connor’s vibrant eyes, finds only sincerity and promise. Hank presses his lips in a line and then sighs.

“Alright, I get it, you sap. I’d like some hot chocolate.”

“Milk, whipped cream?”

“Uh, yeah.”

“Alright.”

Hank seizes up with tension when Connor steps closer and unfolds his hands from behind his back to reach out and prop one against the backrest of the couch. A very human gesture. Connor could easily balance himself without the support. Hank stares at Connor’s throat, decorated by cute moles (unnecessarily so, but appreciated greatly), and the crisp collar of his uniform when the android leans in to press a firm kiss to his forehead. His lips are soft and pliable, imitating that of a human’s. Warm.

Pulling back, Connor searches his surprised face and smiles, enough that it lights up his eyes. Hank swallows hard when he realizes Connor’s LED is colored a soft pink. Then it melts back into blue. Spoken in his comforting, smooth voice, Connor says, “Thank you.”

Hank’s mouth opens, closes, opens, as his flustered surprise makes its way through his system. Then, once recovering from what just happened, Hank huffs a laugh and says with lovely warmth blooming in his core, “You’re getting better at that.”

“I heeded your advice to practice it with a more gentle approach. What was it you said? ‘You kiss like you’re stabbing me in the head’? I am a swift learner, Hank.”

**Author's Note:**

> arrestzelle.tumblr.com | twitter.com/@baratiddies (come say hi!)


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